


at first sight and it's real

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Intersex Omegas, M/M, One Night Stands, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: “Oh!” Viktor says once Yuuri’s found his keys and is now trying to open the lock. “Here’s my number,” he says, handing Yuuri a card with a set of numbers written haphazardly onto it. “If—if you wanted to do this again, you can call me?"Yuuri doesn't call.Until he has to





	1. you took your time with the call

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [At first sight and it's real](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542658) by [Anaabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaabe/pseuds/Anaabe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt I originally wrote a very, very short thing for, and I kinda ended up writing a longer version for it bc I am a weak bitch. Dedicated to everyone who wanted a more fleshed out version of this hAHA. Thanks as always to the usual suspects, y'all know who you are <3
> 
> IDK I personally feel like I'm fumbling with my writing right now, so mistakes are a thing that will happen

Yuuri’s never experienced doing a walk of shame before.

For one, he’s never really had any reason to. Aside from the fact that he’d lived with his godmother during the first two years of university and then with a bunch of highly impressionable underclassmen (i.e. Phichit, Leo, and Guang Hong) for the last two, Yuuri’s degree program—chemical engineering—was also extremely competitive and whatever free time he had was spent sleeping and/or skyping with his dog. And then of course, the combined Masters-Doctorate Program which he was currently in, was even more competitive. Thus, Yuuri’s never really had the time to do anything that would warrant him doing a walk of shame.

Yuuri’s never experienced it, true, but he’s witnessed it enough times to know that what’s happening right now is highly atypical.

One-night-stands don’t drive you home. They don’t walk you up to your shared apartment and ask about what you want for lunch so they can have it delivered to your doorstep later. They don’t look at you as if you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky (unless of course you’ve gone and rocked their world, which Yuuri highly doubts he’s managed to do; if anything, he should be the one looking like that because _damn)_. And Yuuri’s pretty sure that one-night-stands, particularly of the alpha variety, don’t wrap you up in their coat that they’ve thoroughly scented as if they’re trying to stake a very permanent claim on you.

If Yuuri didn’t know any better, he’d think he’s being courted.

But well, Yuuri _does_ know better, and he chalks the whole thing off to the fact that his (incredibly and unfairly gorgeous) one-night-stand— _please call me Viktor, you were saying my name so sweetly last night, after all_ —has no idea how to do a walk of shame either. That, or Viktor’s taken far too many simpering omegas home before that he’s developed something of a system for it, which is honestly more likely than anything Yuuri can think of.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you aren’t too sore, are you?” Viktor asks in a whisper, soft and gentle, a startling contrast to the way he’d gone and ravished Yuuri last night, and Yuuri feels his cheeks burn because he _is._

Yuuri’s entire body is still throbbing to be honest, and he just knows that with how much Viktor had him last night that he’ll be feeling Viktor’s cock spreading the soft, tender walls of his cunt for weeks to come. Hell, Yuuri has a feeling that his cunt won’t feel the same ever again. The last time he remembers being _this_ sore was after his last heat when he’d just bought a new knotting dildo and got a bit overzealous using it, and needless to say, he’d ended up limping for days

“Just a bit,” Yuuri says even as the wet heat between his legs tingles with every step they take closer to his apartment door. It’s hard not to think about last night’s _activities_ especially with Viktor so close, looking and smelling like every omega’s dream come true, and harder still to stop himself from inviting Viktor inside for a reprise when Viktor’s looking at Yuuri like he wants to.

With an answering blush high on his cheeks, Viktor says, “Sorry, I got a bit too carried away last night,” which is a gross understatement because Yuuri looks and feels claimed. He has a small collection of hickeys and bruises all over his body, not to mention that there’s a very high possibility that he’s still dripping with Viktor’s seed, and honestly, all that he’s missing is a mating bite.

“It’s fine! Really, I’m okay—” Yuuri trails off, caught in Viktor’s stare as he fumbles with his keys. “I,” he starts again, swallowing the lump in his throat, “last night was good. Great, it was great.”

“Really?”

Yuuri will be thinking about it during his next heat and every other heat he’ll have in the foreseeable future, so, “Yes, really.”

The smile he receives for that can probably light up entire galaxies.

“Oh!” Viktor quips once Yuuri’s done fumbling for his keys and is now trying to open the lock. “Here’s my number,” he says, handing Yuuri a calling card with a set of numbers written haphazardly under _Viktor Nikiforov, D. Sc., Professor II_ , and _oh god, Yuuri slept with a professor_. “I—if you want to do this again, or just want to meet up for coffee, you can call me?”

Yuuri takes the card and manages a small smile.

“Yeah, okay.”

 

.

 

Except Yuuri doesn’t call.

Partly because he doesn’t think he should. Viktor, who is apparently _The Viktor Nikiforov_ —and honestly, how did Yuuri miss that?—is a Nobel Laureate and their little university town’s local celebrity. Not to mention that he’s the winner of their university’s Hottest Professor Award for five years running. Viktor’s in a completely different league from Yuuri, who’s just a dime-a-dozen Masters-Doctorate degree candidate whose recent study got a scathing review from a well-respected, international journal. And mostly because Viktor probably has dozens of omegas lining up on his doorstep—prettier and smarter than Yuuri will ever be.

(He keeps the card though, tucked inside the coat that he still can’t bring himself to wash or return— tangible proof that someone wanted him once upon a time.)

So yeah, Yuuri doesn’t call and it’s fine.

It’s okay.

People have one-night-stands all the time and it’s not a big deal.

Yuuri has dissertations to write and lectures to attend, so he moves on and gets on with his life. He ignores Phichit’s good-natured ribbing – “So, a little birdie told me a certain Nobel Laureate took you home at that frat party,” – and drowns out Leo’s anguished cries – “No! Yuuri, you could have given them to me!” – when he empties out the six-pack of Asahi down the sink as a promise to never drink again. He teaches a few classes, weathers through several meetings with Dr. Cialdini and Dr. Baranovskaya, and if he happens to have a few mind-blowing orgasms while thinking about the night Viktor Nikiforov D. Sc. had taken him apart, then that’s between Yuuri and his knotting dildo, because as he’s told Phichit countless times, it’s not a big deal.

Or at least, it’s not a big deal until it is.

At first, Yuuri thinks it’s a bad case of food poisoning. Phichit had, in a moment of weakness, finally bought take-out from that really suspect Thai place that was decidedly not owned by anyone of Thai descent near the station. The pad thai had been surprisingly okay, but there was something definitely wrong with the tom yum goong, as evidenced by him and Guang-hong having to take turns at the bathroom afterwards. Guang-hong quickly gets better after a few days of chugging purple Gatorade while Yuuri continues to have nausea and vomiting spells, which he ascribes to the flu that’s been going around the university that week.

But then his heat doesn’t arrive and Yuuri isn’t dumb, okay? He’s on the combined Masters-Doctorate program for a reason, so the next time he goes to the nearby convenience store to get a bottle of Pocari, Yuuri also throws in a couple of pregnancy tests.

Just in case.

“Yuuri?” Guang-hong’s voice calls out from outside the bathroom, and it almost gets drowned out by the loud rush of blood in Yuuri’s ears and the even louder rush of water down the drain of the toilet bowl. Yuuri can only groan in response, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, and he really should get up, but the world and his stomach is still spinning and he almost misses Guang-hong’s, “Do you want me to call Phichit?”

Any other time, Yuuri would welcome his best friend’s presence, but right now, Yuuri needs to be alone.

Or mostly alone.

Swallowing down the bile in his throat, Yuuri manages to croak out, “No, m’fine.”  

“Do you need anything? Do you want food?” Guang-hong asks again, before quickly amending, “Or not food, forget I said food--oh! Do you want tea? My mom sent me more of that tea you like!”

“Tea sounds great.” Even though Yuuri’s pretty sure that he’ll just be throwing it all up later. “Thanks, Guang-hong.”

“Okay, I’ll prepare you a cup,” Guang-hong says, and Yuuri lets out another groan as he pulls himself up into a sitting position, head falling back against the wall with a small thunk. The pregnancy tests sit just at the periphery and Yuuri turns to look at them again, just as Guang-hong asks, “Do you need anything else? Want me to go to the pharmacy for you?”

With his eyes still caught on the two blue lines, stark against the white background, Yuuri replies with a hysterical little giggle, “It’s fine. I already have what I need.”

Two lines.

_Two lines._

He’s _pregnant_.

Well, shit.

 

.

 

“You’re what.”

Minako’s apartment is comforting in its familiarity and Yuuri draws on that comfort and familiarity as he tells Minako again that he’s--

“Pregnant.”

Yuuri’s known it for a week now, has taken four more pregnancy tests before finally visiting the local Omega Center where an excited doctor tells him that yes, he’s definitely pregnant, and that his trusty fertility inhibitor stopped working a week after his last heat. Which means, of course, that the one time, and perhaps the only time Yuuri actually needed a fertility inhibitor (i.e. during his mind-blowing one-night-stand with Dr. Nikiforov), it had gone and failed him.

“Are you sure?” Minako asks, sounding and looking a bit crazed, and Yuuri can only nod slowly and carefully lay out the sheaf of results he got from the clinic.  

The results from his blood work go first, followed by the ultrasound films showing a small white blob inside what is apparently his uterus. “The lab results and ultrasound look pretty sure,” Yuuri says, watching as Minako goes pale, eyes wide as she takes in the ultrasound results. Yuuri thinks he’d worn the exact same expression when he first saw them too.

“Yeah, that’s—” Minako falters, getting unsteadily to her feet. “That’s definitely a baby. Fuck, I need a drink.” She continues, stumbling towards the refrigerator and pulling the door open to peer inside. “Do you want a drink? Water? Milk? Oh, no, that’s expired. Water?” Minako babbles, emerging with a can of Asahi and a bottle of water in hand. She ends up handing him the beer and Yuuri takes the can with a laugh, and he quickly opens it before handing it back and taking the bottle of water from Minako, who looks as if she has no idea what’s going on right now. It’s a nice change of pace because Yuuri’s been running around like a headless chicken for the past few weeks, and seeing someone else panic for him is kinda freeing. “You’re taking this better than I thought you would.”

Wiping away the condensation on the bottle, Yuuri admits, “I already had a good cry in the middle of my lab class, so yeah, I guess I’m pretty calm right now.” The room full of freshmen had fallen deathly silent when he’d burst into ugly tears, fifty scared faces looking at him in horror before turning as one towards the problem set. They’d finished it in record time too and Yuuri briefly considered crying more often in class if it’ll get him cooperative and behaved students every time.

“Right,” Minako says once she’s finished off her beer and is once again sitting across from him. She still looks a bit crazed, but calmer now than she was before, and it has Yuuri preparing himself for her questions. “How far along are you?”

Yuuri lets out a breath because that one’s easy enough to answer. “Around two months.”

Minako nods before asking, “What do you plan to do?”

“Uh, I’m—” Yuuri blinks, drops his gaze to the mess of papers on the table, and continues with a slight tremble in his voice, “I’m actually thinking of continuing with the pregnancy.” Because Yuuri’s always wanted to have children, and while this is admittedly a bit earlier than what he’d planned, it’s not as if he has droves of alphas lining up on his doorstep to impregnate him.

It’s a testament to how much Minako knows him that she only nods and says, “Alright,” accepting his decision as quickly as she’d done back when he’d moved out. “Have you contacted him? Her? Do they know that you’re pregnant?”

“Him, and no, not yet.” It’s not as if Yuuri can just come up and tell Dr. Nikiforov that he’s pregnant. “I’m not even sure if I should tell him? I don’t want him to think that I’m—I’m trapping him into committing or something.” Especially since Yuuri was the one who insisted that they not use a condom that night, because he’d been confident about the effectiveness of his fertility inhibitor. “But I guess he also deserves to know because, well, he helped in making the baby,” Yuuri says, blush reaching up to his ears as he remembers just how enthusiastically the baby was made.

“Well,” Minako begins, a mixture of amusement and worry writ clearly on her face. “I think you just answered your own question, kid.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, you may feel the need to ask, "aly, did you honestly use a carly rae jepsen song for this?" To which I answer, "yes, yes I did."
> 
> Also, first trimester ultrasounds are a thing that you can do. You won't see much, but it's a thing.
> 
> Comments help water my crops and clear my skin lmao


	2. i took no time with the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor waits, pines, and asks Makka why the boy he likes hasn’t called him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took a while to get this hammered out guh bc i forgot how to write viktor POV for a bit 
> 
> mistakes may abound. let's all ignore them for now bc im tired

Not even a minute into the frat party and Viktor already wants to go home. Call him boring or whatever, but Viktor would rather spend his night back in his flat with a bottle of wine or vodka, whatever was readily available, than spend another minute here, surrounded by drunk and noisy students. Even back when he was still working towards his undergrad degree, Viktor had never cared much for rowdy frat parties. And Viktor especially doesn’t care for them when they invade the local watering hole and subject everyone to their noise and stupidity.

Viktor’s just about to say his goodbyes to a sobbing Georgi when Chris—who had left them both earlier to fend for themselves in favor of having phone sex with his current fling—emerges from the mass of bodies on the dance floor and proceeds to bodily turn him around to direct his gaze towards the bar where—

“Isn’t that the guy you’ve been creeping on at the café for an entire year now?”

—Yuuri Katsuki stands, nursing a drink and looking like Viktor’s every (wet) dream come true.

For a quick second, Viktor forgets how to breathe, too busy taking all of Yuuri in. Because honestly, who needs oxygen when Viktor can just stare at Yuuri instead? Instead of the frumpy sweaters and leggings combo that Viktor normally sees him in, Yuuri’s clad in a sleek black button-up and a pair of dark jeans that look like they’ve been painted on, showing off the most phenomenal ass Viktor has ever had the privilege of seeing. Yuuri’s dark hair, normally soft and messy, is artfully slicked back. Like this, Yuuri looks different, dangerous— _ dangerously beautiful _ —and it shouldn’t be possible to be  _ this _ attracted to someone.

Viktor is but a man and Yuuri Katsuki makes him want so many things, including, but not limited to, a mating bite, a winter wedding, and ten babies.

“Shut up, it’s barely been a year,” he says, scowling at Chris when he finally manages to tear his eyes away from Yuuri and parse through Chris’ words. He’s only really started  _ seeing _ Yuuri—and not in the fun, figurative sense—eight months ago when Viktor’s usual seat at Stammi Vicino got stolen by a group of law students, and he’d been forced to move to the second floor and into a new spot that afforded him a view of the most beautiful person in the known universe. “And I have  _ not _ been creeping on him,” he adds.

Viktor’s been keeping a perfectly respectable distance and he totally hasn’t walked past Yuuri’s table a ridiculous number of times just so he can catch a whiff of Yuuri’s scent because that would be weird and borderline creepy, and Viktor is anything but.

(He only walks past Yuuri’s table three, maybe four times, in one day, and only because Yuuri’s table is on the way to the bathroom.)

“Uh-huh, sure, keep telling yourself that.” Chris says, completely and utterly unconvinced, and Viktor has half a mind to throw Georgi’s untouched drink at his face. Viktor doesn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. “But really though, what are you waiting for? Go talk to him!”

Chris punctuates his statement by bumping him towards the bar but Viktor hasn’t been going to the gym religiously for nothing so he’s not even fazed, doesn’t even stumble. And okay, Chris is clearly delusional if he thinks that one fruity alcoholic drink will finally push Viktor into doing something (i.e. talk to Yuuri) he’s been trying and failing to do for months.

Throwing another lingering glance at Yuuri’s direction, Viktor hesitates, before coming up with a weak, “He’s with his friends—”

“Who are obviously preoccupied!” Chris says, cutting him off with a derisive eye roll. Another quick peek at Yuuri proves Chris to be right; Yuuri’s alone at the bar, the two companions Viktor had spied earlier disappearing into the crush of people on the dance floor. “Come on,” Chris continues as he crosses his arms over his chest, tone turning just a bit smarmy. “What kind of alpha are you if you can’t even talk to one omega?”

It’s such an obvious ploy to get a rise out of him, and if Viktor had been a completely different person or a different kind of alpha entirely, then he would have taken offense and would be frothing at the mouth, posturing and trying to prove Chris wrong. As it is, Viktor just raises an eyebrow at his friend and asks, “Isn’t your dissertation about how archaic notions on dynamics are inherently damaging and should be rendered obsolete in the modern world?”

Chris’ face twists into a complicated expression, as if he’s not quite sure whether to be flattered that Viktor’s gone and read his paper or annoyed that Viktor’s using his paper against him. Annoyance eventually wins out and Chris snaps, “Viktor, if you don’t talk to that boy right now, I swear—”

“Fine,” Viktor acquiesces before Chris can even finish his threat. He’s known Chris for years now, and Viktor really, really doesn’t want Chris to escalate because that road leads to temporary restraining orders and/or getting arrested for public indecency. “Wish me luck.”

Except Viktor ends up not needing any.

Viktor’s not entirely clear on how it happens, but one moment he’s offering to buy Yuuri a drink, and the next he has Yuuri spread out on his bed like a feast waiting to be enjoyed.

And Viktor very much wants to enjoy him.

Letting out a shuddery breath, Viktor moves, shifting onto his stomach so that he can breathe in the sweet scent of Yuuri’s arousal, the musk of his sex that Viktor can almost, almost taste. “I want to put my mouth on you.” He wraps his hands around Yuuri’s thick thighs and spreads him even wider, so that the swollen and slick lips of his pussy gape just a bit, revealing the sultry pink of his walls, and  _ oh _ , what Viktor wouldn’t give to have Yuuri sit on his face. “Can I?”

“ _ Yes _ .” The answer leaves Yuuri in a rush, before he quickly adds, suddenly shy, “But—but you don’t have to.”

“Oh, darling,” Viktor croons, making a show of licking his lips and grinning when Yuuri moans. “There’s nothing I want more,” he promises before pressing a kiss to the tip of Yuuri’s adorable cocklet, already flushed with need, and his own cock twitches, growing harder at the way Yuuri’s hips jump. “Well, except maybe having you split open on my cock.”

And then Viktor is burying his face into Yuuri’s cunt, putting his mouth around Yuuri and sucking, moaning at the taste that coats his tongue. It’s thick and cloying, much like Yuuri’s scent and Viktor can’t get enough of it, licks up and in, gets his tongue deeper. He thinks he can come from just this; slurping at Yuuri’s pussy like a man starved and he almost does when Yuuri screams and a splash of wetness hits his cheek.

“ _ Blyad. _ ”

He’s surging up and capturing Yuuri’s lips in a filthy kiss before he knows it, suddenly desperate because  _ Yuuri came and squirted just from his mouth  _ and it’s hot, ten different kinds of hot and Viktor feels punch-drunk. It’s as if he’s stuck in a fever dream, mind clouded with need and want, like he’s in the beginnings of a rut. And it should be worrying, but all Viktor can focus on is—the sweetness of Yuuri’s mouth, the insistent throb of his mating gland, the slick slide of skin against skin, the way the head of his cock catches against Yuuri with every thrust—

“I’m on fertility inhibitors,” Yuuri says suddenly and Viktor stills, looking down at him with wide eyes that grow even wider when Yuuri curls a hand around his cock and leads him to his winking entrance. “I want you to fill me up.”

And just like that, Viktor is  _ gone _ .

 

.

 

“This is getting really pathetic, you know that, right?”

Viktor groans and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, ignoring Chris’ eyebrow of judgment as he reaches for the tub of ice cream once again. It’s been nearly three weeks since the frat party, three weeks since the one-night-stand that Viktor refuses to call as such because he’s still holding out hope that it won’t be just a one-time thing, and three weeks since Yuuri Katsuki ran off with his heart, never to be seen again. In Viktor’s opinion, he has every right to be pathetic and act like one of those jilted heroines who waste away on their fainting couches.

At first, Viktor thinks that Yuuri’s just shy, so he lets the matter be. What’s a few more days of waiting in comparison to the rest of their lives together, right? But then he goes through the worst rut he’s had ever since his presentation and falls off grid for an entire week and a half, and after he’s sweated out the worst of his post-rut fever, Yuuri still hasn’t called. Not even a text.

And so Viktor waits, pines, and asks Makka why the boy he likes hasn’t called him back.

Rinse and repeat until he is, according to Chris, almost rivalling Georgi in terms of just how bad he’s taking a breakup. Except in his case, there’s no breakup to speak of because he and Yuuri weren’t actually together, which makes the entire thing even worse.

Swallowing down another mouthful of ice cream, Viktor gracefully flips Chris the bird and says, “Shut up, I’m in a fragile state right now.” He’s absolutely miserable and he looks it too; with bloodshot eyes, greasy hair, and the respectable beginnings of a beard taking over half his face, Viktor looks like he’d been dragged to hell and back.

“Don’t give me that crap,” Chris says as he yanks the curtains open, bathing the living room in sunlight and Viktor barely resists the urge to hiss. He settles for glaring at Chris when the other man finally settles down on the nearby armchair. “It’s been a week already and you can’t keep on using the post-rut fever card.”

Viktor isn’t. Not really. But  _ I can’t teach today because I’m having a bad case of post-rut fever _ sounds infinitely better than  _ I can’t teach today because I’m too heartbroken to do anything productive _ . “He still hasn’t called me back,” Viktor mumbles, voice small, making Chris sigh longsufferingly.

“Maybe he’s just not interested,” Chris says, only to quickly take it back when Viktor lets out a pitiful whine. “Or he’s just not looking for a long-term relationship!” He amends. “From what you told me, you got a bit heavy-handed with the territorial alpha stuff and he probably got spooked.”

Wilting even further into his small nest of pillows and pulling Makka onto his lap, Viktor says, “I just want to give him food, orgasms, and babies, Chris.” Viktor’s done with short-term relationships. He’s ready for something permanent and he’d hoped that this thing with Yuuri would blossom into something more, especially since Yuuri had looked and smelled very receptive to his advances, and he tells Chris so.

“Fine. Then just call him instead of wasting away waiting for his call,” Chris says and it has Viktor recoiling violently, startling Makka from her perch on his lap.

“What, no! I can’t do that!”

“Why the hell not?” Chris asks and something must have shown on Viktor’s face because Chris is groaning and shaking his head. “Oh god, is this because of some weird alpha courtship thing?”

Viktor grimaces, turning back to his ice cream so he won’t have to look at Chris judging him. While he’s never really subscribed to a lot of the beliefs when it comes to dynamics, Viktor is unfortunately a romantic and grew up reading about alpha and omega courtships and all the subtle rules that govern them, and he always thought that if he was going to court someone, then he was going to go about it the proper way, hence, the waiting. “I don’t want to seem pushy.”

Chris rolls his eyes.

“Then suffer.”

 

.

 

Days pass and Viktor tries to forget and move on.

_ Tries _ being the keyword here.

Because as Viktor is learning, there’s no forgetting Yuuri and there’s definitely no moving on from him.

However, Viktor does have a day job and occasionally has to pretend to be a functional member of society, so he gets on with his life. He ignores Chris’s judgmental little quips – “Yeah, you’re definitely worse than Georgi at this point.” – and shuts the door on Georgi’s face after Georgi invites him to go out to drink and air out their grievances – “It would be better for you to talk about your feelings instead of bottling them up, Vitya!” – for the umpteenth time. He teaches a few classes, avoids Stammi Vicino Caf é like the plague, and if Viktor happens to indulge in several glasses of wine at night and ask his ceiling why Yuuri Katsuki never called him back, then that’s between him and Makka.

It’s on a slow Saturday morning when Viktor’s usual routine changes.

He’s in the middle of a consultation with Mila when he gets a call from an unknown number. Viktor pauses from his lecture and almost considers not answering, finger already poised on the screen, when he remembers that there’s only a handful of people who knows his personal phone number and the only one whose number he hasn’t saved is—

“Do you mind if I take this?” Viktor asks, already standing up from his seat, startling Mila from where she’s been staring blankly at her corrected draft.

“What,” Mila starts, one eyebrow rising. “And have you stop lambasting my thesis? Be my guest.”

Viktor has a few choice words to say regarding his so-called lambasting of Mila’s thesis, but he has a call waiting for him so he just shakes his head and steps out into the hallway, and finally, finally accepts the call, heart thrumming wildly inside his chest.

“Hello?”

A sharp intake of breath reaches Viktor’s ears before a familiar voice asks, “ _ Uh, hi. Is this Dr. Nikiforov? _ ” Viktor can only manage a choked-out  _ yes _ as he slumps down against the wall, knees shaking because he knows that voice, has been dreaming about that voice for months now and he can’t believe that he hearing it again. “ _ This is Yuuri Katsuki from that—that frat party a while back, I’m not—I’m not sure if you remember?” _

As if Viktor can ever forget.

“Yuuri. Hi,” Viktor breathes out, once he’s managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What’s up?” He asks and barely resists the urge to throw his phone out the window, because  _ that _ has to be the stupidest thing to come out of his mouth ever. Letting his head fall back against the wall, Viktor grimaces as he waits for Yuuri’s reply.

“ _ I was— _ ” Yuuri pauses, voice barely above a whisper that Viktor has to fumble at the side of his phone for the volume lest he not hear what else Yuuri has to say. “ _ I was wondering if you’re free to meet up today? _ ”

The question has Viktor pumping his fist in the air, earning him a couple of bemused looks from several students passing by. He’s been waiting for months, and he knows that it reeks a lot of desperation, but Viktor could honestly care less what people think, as long as he can see Yuuri again. “Definitely,” Viktor says, trying to temper down his excitement but ultimately failing. “I can be at Stammi Vicino in fifteen?”

“ _ Actually, I was thinking of somewhere more private. _ ”

Oh.  _ Well then _ .

“How about my apartment?”  

 

.

 

Yuuri’s pregnant.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out and Viktor  _ is _ one. He knows it the moment he sees Yuuri, before Yuuri even tells him about how his fertility inhibitors stopped working and before he starts pulling out the results of his pregnancy tests and the ultrasound films, because just one whiff of Yuuri’s scent tells Viktor everything he needs to know. Yuuri’s always smelled amazing to him—like spring and fresh apples, lush and fertile—but now, he smells absolutely divine, and underneath the syrupy sweetness, Viktor can make out his own scent layered within, softer but unmistakably his.

Which means, of course, that Yuuri’s pregnant with  _ his baby _ .

Holy  _ shit _ .

“I’ve never been with anyone else.” Yuuri is saying and Viktor startles from where he’s been staring bug-eyed at the ultrasound film, finally looking up at Yuuri. “Before or after, so it’s—it’s yours,” Yuuri continues, blushing as he says the words, as if Viktor had any doubts about it. He admittedly doesn’t know Yuuri very well, but Viktor knows that he’s not the type to lie about something like this. “I’m not trying to trap you into anything, I just—I just wanted to let you know? Because I’m keeping it—the baby—and I mean, you did help.”

And Viktor did.

A lot.

Maybe even a bit too much, as he recalls that fateful night and how he’d taken Yuuri countless times, filling him up with seed each and every time.

Swallowing down the dryness in his throat, Viktor shifts from his perch on the couch. “Can I touch your stomach?” is not what he plans to say, but the question leaves his lips before his brain can catch up with his mouth, leaving the both of them staring wide-eyed at each other. “Sorry, that was weird, I—“ Viktor falters, breath catching when Yuuri breaks out into a small smile, takes his hand and positions Viktor’s hand flat over his stomach.

“I’m not showing yet,” Yuuri says quietly as Viktor stares at where his hand is, pale against the dark blue of Yuuri’s sweater. “The doctor said I wouldn’t, until after the third month.”

Yuuri’s stomach is still flat, but just knowing that there’s a baby forming inside Yuuri—their baby—has tears welling up in Viktor’s eyes, until he’s sobbing uncontrollably, hand fisted around the fabric of Yuuri’s sweater.

“Viktor?”

“Sorry, I’m okay.” Taking in a shuddery breath, Viktor shakes his head, wiping at his tears. His chest feels full, as if he’s drowning in a deluge of emotions. He looks at up at Yuuri’s panicked expression and lets out a laugh that borders on hysterical. “I’ve just been waiting for you to call me for so long and I was not expecting  _ this _ .”

Viktor’s honestly just been hoping for a coffee date, maybe a booty call, but instead he finds out that he’s left more than his coat with Yuuri, and that  _ he’s going to be a father _ . Which, while unexpected, is more than welcome. All it means is that his plans have to be restructured a bit because they got to the baby part earlier than the courtship thing, but it’s okay! Viktor can adapt.

“Wait, what do you mean you’ve been—” Yuuri starts, straightening up on his seat and Viktor watches as confusion, followed closely by shock and realization flit across Yuuri’s face.  _ “Oh _ , you really  _ were _ courting me.” 

Viktor blinks. “I thought I was pretty obvious.” Chris and Georgi had said so, but apparently he wasn’t, seeing as Yuuri’s been laboring under the idea that Viktor wasn’t interested in something more when he’s been curating an embarrassing number of Pinterest boards dedicated to their wedding(s) since he met Yuuri.  

“But why? I’m—“

“Beautiful? Gorgeous?” He quips before Yuuri can finish his train of thought. “I’ve been, uh, sort of watching you at Stammi Vicino even before the frat party,” Viktor confesses, and is rewarded with Yuuri’s eyes widening behind his glasses, twinkling under the light. “Not in a weird way! I’ve mostly been trying and failing to pluck up the courage to ask you out for coffee.” Yuuri’s mouth has fallen open into a small o at his confession, and Viktor wants to steal the kiss waiting in the corner of Yuuri’s lips. 

“Well,” Yuuri says after a long stretch of silence. He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip before reaching out to put a shaking hand over Viktor’s nape and pressing just a bit on the mating gland there, claiming and accepting Viktor’s offer of courtship in one fell swoop. It has Viktor blushing up to his ears and going pliant, and has a smile blooming bright on Yuuri’s lips. “I can’t really drink coffee right now, but we can go grab lunch?”

“Lunch sounds fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next and last part would be more of a snippet collection + a very self-indulgent epilogue so yeah...this was honestly just a very convoluted meet-cute via surprise pregnancy *ugly laughter*
> 
> if you enjoyed this please do consider [retweeting](https://twitter.com/alykapedia/status/1005738142295453697) or [reblogging!](http://alykapediaaa.tumblr.com/post/174749381986/at-first-sight-and-its-real-alykapedia) it would really mean a lot to me :>


	3. trade my soul for a wish, pennies and dimes for a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What kind of monster allowed Dr. Nikiforov to procreate?” 
> 
> Because yeah, sure, Dr. Nikiforov has won their university’s hottest professor award for five years running, but he’s also a complete asshole and not even his pretty face can change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAPPY NEW YEAR, U FILTHY ANIMALS
> 
> Crammed this because I wanted to start 2019 with a bang(ing) so if there are like, glaring mistakes, it's because of that. I just really wanted to wrap this up hhhh so I hope that it's enjoyable at the very least?? 
> 
> Thank you to lunardistance and insidetwizzles for yelling with me about this?? THANK YOU FOR THE VALIDATION ILU BOTH V MUCH IM SORRY THERE IS ONLY ONE SEX SCENE HASGDJAsajhka
> 
> mistakes may abound. find it in your hearts to forgive me

It probably says a lot about Yuuri that he’s gotten way too used to seeing what he’s come to know as Phichit’s _I’m very, very disappointed in you and your life choices_ face. That, and the fact that he even knows that such an expression exists and can differentiate it from the other variations that Phichit has developed over the years. All of them were apparently made in response to Yuuri’s fumbling attempts at life in general. Yuuri would be offended, but he’s known Phichit for years now, and he knows for a fact that Phichit has a completely different idea of what _terrible life choices_ entail, and so he doesn’t really mind that much.

“Okay,” Phichit says after a long stretch of silence wherein he’d taken several pictures of the spread of dim sum— _authentic dim sum_ , Guang-hong breathes reverently, _none of those deep fried cream cheese wonton monstrosities_ —on their table and uploaded the artfully filtered photos to his various social media accounts, following Yuuri’s announcement. “Say that again, but in a way that makes actual sense.”

Yuuri ignores Phichit in favor of plucking out a xiu mai from the basket before Guang-hong can eat them all, swallowing it down in one breath. “Viktor and I are taking it slow,” he says, aiming for nonchalant but landing firmly on awkward and incredulous and _oh god I can’t believe I’m dating my one-night-stand/father of my unborn child_.

Because it’s been a couple of weeks since he’d made that phone call to Viktor and Yuuri still thinks that he’s experiencing some kind of fever dream.

A fever dream that he never ever wants to end.

“You’re taking it slow with your baby-daddy,” Phichit says flatly, loud enough for the group of eavesdropping aunties on the next table to burst into interested titters, and Yuuri barely resists the urge to hide under the table when he feels their gazes zero in on his belly.

Four months into his pregnancy and just as the doctor said, Yuuri’s started to show, and _show he does._ He has a noticeable baby bump now, one that’s very obvious even under the baggy sweaters and hoodies he wears, and he’s gotten more than a few stares for it, especially at his department. Thankfully, aside from Dr. Cialdini, who offered to speed up his paperwork for a paternity leave, and Dr. Baranovskaya, who told him in no uncertain terms to tell her if Viktor was being difficult and that she would set him straight, no one has really questioned him about his pregnancy.

Except, of course, for his roommates.

“I’m going to shave your head while you sleep,” Yuuri promises Phichit as he pointedly turns away from the gaggle of aunties and reaches for another dumpling.

Completely unfazed, Phichit raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Yuuri, you guys passed slow _ages_ ago,” he says slowly, before adding with a pointed look at the top of Yuuri’s baby bump, “He’s already knocked you up, and you’re telling me that _you’re taking it slow with your baby-daddy_?”

Blushing up to his ears, Yuuri leans over the table and hisses, “Will you stop calling Viktor my baby-daddy?” It had been funny at first, but the entire thing was honestly getting ridiculous at this point and has Yuuri feeling like he’s on some reality show about pregnant teen omegas. “You know his name.” And Phichit was definitely more than familiar with it too, seeing as he spent a good chunk of last semester cursing Viktor’s name to hell and back because of his unreasonable assignments and ridiculously difficult exams.

Which, _okay_ , come to think of it, is probably why Phichit refuses to call Viktor by name.

“Nah, it’s more fun this way.”

Before Yuuri can grumble that it isn’t fun for him, Leo proceeds to add fuel to the flame like the traitor that he is. “You know, it’s a good thing we’re done with the basic physics courses because imagine being in class and knowing that your professor is the father of your roommate’s baby. _Awkward_ ,” Leo quips, and then adds, “No offense, Yuuri,” with a sheepish grin, pushing the plate of cabbage rolls he’d been hoarding towards Yuuri in apology.

“Speak for yourself,” Guang-hong says, finally resurfacing from the basket of xiao long bao he’d been systematically devouring. “I almost called Dr. Nikiforov, _Dr. Baby-Daddy_ , during recitation the other day and I swear my soul almost left my body.” There’s real terror on Guang-hong’s face, and while Yuuri’s heard countless tales (and more than a few rants) about Dr. Nikiforov, he still can’t seem to associate them with Viktor, who’s been nothing but sweet and charming to him. “So I’m with Yuuri on this one.”

Yuuri kinda wishes Guang-hong was agreeing with him out of the goodness of his heart, but whatever, he’ll take it.

“Wait, I thought you have Dr. Bin?” Leo asks. Guang-hong had crowed about it at the start of the semester too, saying that he won’t have to suffer like Phichit and Leo had at Dr. Nikiforov’s tender mercies, and Yuuri remembers having to break up the petty fight that had broken out back then.

“The fertility treatments finally took so he’s on paternity leave,” Guang-hong sighs, reaching for the pot of green tea and pouring himself a cup. “Dr. Nikiforov’s the only one with a free slot in his schedule so we’re stuck with him.”  

Phichit and Leo share a long, loaded look, and for a moment, Yuuri thinks he might have to deal with a reprise of the fight they'd had all those months ago. He's more than aware of how petty they can be, after all.

But Leo only gives Guang-hong a pat on the back and says, “Damn, that sucks. Dr. Bin gives better grades.”

For his part, Phichit sighs with an air of longsuffering. “Okay, fine,” he grouses, sounding as if it was taking everything in him to say the words. “No more calling Yuuri’s baby-daddy, _baby-daddy_ , until the end of the semester for the sake of Guang-hong’s grades,” Phichit decrees like the voice of God proclaiming banishment from the Garden of Eden, and from the corner of his eye, Yuuri can see the aunties renew their excited tittering.

Yuuri can never show his face at this restaurant ever again.

Scratch that, he can never show his face _anywhere_ ever again and it’s all Phichit’s fault.

Swallowing down the _I’m going to tell on you to your mother, see if I don’t_ burning on his tongue (because he’s already twenty-four and twenty-four is probably already too old for tattling on people to their parents, not that that’s ever stopped or will stop him from telling on his sister whenever she picked on him), Yuuri brings their conversation back to the topic at hand before Phichit had gone and derailed it. “Anyway, are you guys sure that you don’t want to try and look for another apartment?”  

Due to a very unfortunate series of events that Yuuri honestly cannot make heads nor tails of, their old building—an old brownstone that’s a short walk away from their respective colleges—was going to be demolished soon to make way for a new parking lot, and their harried landlord had given them three days to move out, which isn’t really enough time to pack up several years’ worth of belongings, never mind move out. And with it being the middle of the semester, finding a new place for four people on such short notice is completely out of the question. It had been a small miracle that they even found their soon-to-be former apartment in the first place, and the chances of another small miracle happening is close to none.

Viktor had, of course, asked Yuuri to—there’s really no other word for it—move in with him when he’d found out, and despite the little voice in his head telling him that it was way too early to be moving in with an Alpha who was courting him, he’d been ready to do it. But he’d held off on saying yes because Phichit, Leo, and Guang-hong had nowhere to go, and Yuuri could not, in good conscience, leave them to fend for themselves.

“Yeah, we’re sure,” Phichit says, holding his phone up to show Yuuri a chat log with someone named _Grumpy_. “Seung-gil has an extra room in his place and he’s agreed to put me up for the rest of the year.” At the mention of Seung-gil’s name, Leo and Guang-hong wordlessly slide over two twenty dollar bills which Yuuri accepts with a beatific smile, deftly ignoring the way Phichit rolls his eyes at the display. “And these two are staying with JJ and Leo’s DJ friend,” he adds after leveling them all with a very unimpressed look as if Phichit hasn’t been in the middle of just about every betting pool in their apartment.

Nodding, Leo explains, “Otabek and JJ’s old roommate had a total meltdown the other day and went AWOL so they have an extra room and a bunk bed, so GH and I are all set.” Beside him, Guang-hong nods as well and Leo continues, “Besides, it’ll be good for you and the baby to stay with your baby-dad—Dr. Nikiforov during the pregnancy, right? What with hormones and stuff.”

“Living together means you can make another baby as soon as possible too,” Phichit quips and Yuuri doesn’t bother resisting the urge and kicks him under the table. Unfortunately, Phichit remains undeterred and adds with a shit-eating grin, “So you should stop worrying about us and let Dr. Nikiforov bring you to his bower already.”

“Phichit!”

 

.

 

The thing is, Viktor hates Thursdays.

He may, in fact, hate it more than he hates Mondays. Which is saying something since Mondays were the bane of everyone’s existence, and everyone and their grandma loathes Mondays with a passion that probably keeps the flames of hell burning.

Because Thursdays mean five back-to-back lectures starting at seven in the morning, followed by a two hour-long departmental meeting that sucks the marrow out of life itself and finally, student consultations until six in the evening. By which point, Viktor is tired, hungry, and a hair's breadth away from murdering someone in cold blood with a whiteboard marker. Everyone knows to avoid him during Thursdays; his students, his fellow faculty, even his friends know to steer clear of him (unless they bring him coffee and a sandwich from Stammi Vicino).

And so when Thursday rolls around and Viktor isn’t glaring at people for existing, everyone is suitably concerned.

Chris, as it turns out, isn’t any different, and Viktor rolls his eyes as Chris makes a point to look out the window—to check for flying pigs because everyone thinks they’re so funny—when he catches Viktor on the way back to his office after a quick coffee run. As much as Viktor wants to level Chris with the dirtiest look he’s capable of, he can’t. His face has been stuck on a smile since yesterday, and seeing as it didn’t dim even after his Advanced Theoretical Physics class, the smile isn’t going away anytime soon.

“Okay, yeah, I can understand why your students are scared,” Chris finally says, squinting at him from behind his glasses, and Viktor makes a mental note to make his exams harder. Give his students something to be really scared of. “You’re smiling. It’s Thursday and you’re smiling. As your friend, I am legally required to tell you that it’s creepy.”

With a smile still firmly on his face, Viktor flips Chris the bird before continuing on his way.

“I know for a fact that he called you back.” Thanks to Mila, no doubt. The traitor. “But that happened ages ago.” Two weeks and four days to be exact. Not that Viktor’s keeping track or anything. “And that’s not your _I just got some_ smile, so it isn’t that either.”

Viktor bites down on the scoff fighting its way out of his lips because he does _not_ have an _I just got some_ smile, instead affording Chris a nondescript hum and a shrug.

“Is this revenge for making fun of you when you were pining away like a Regency heroine?” Chris whines, and if they weren’t climbing up the last flight of stairs to his office, Viktor thinks his friend might have stomped his feet too.

Before Viktor can make some caustic remark about how Chris needs to mind his own business, he catches a whiff of a familiar scent. A scent that’s been slowly but surely suffusing his apartment, a scent that makes Viktor think of apples and spring, lush and fertile, tempered with just the slightest hint of his own musk. A scent that has him running towards his office with his heart in his throat because Yuuri’s college is halfway across the campus, so there’s really no good reason why he would be here unless something bad happened because Viktor’s a shitty alpha—

He’s distantly aware of Chris yelling after him, but Viktor doesn’t spare him any thought as he skids to a stop a few steps away from his office. The doors are thrown wide open and Viktor feels his knees go weak when he looks in and sees—Yuuri sitting on the worn, old couch in his office, bundled up in one of Viktor’s coats, and looking just as hale and healthy as he did earlier this morning. Yuuri has a hand on his growing belly as he nods at something Mila says, and Viktor can’t help the way his heart seizes inside his chest at the sight, buoyed by the knowledge that it’s _his_ child that Yuuri is carrying.

Viktor almost doesn’t notice Chris’ arrival, too busy watching Yuuri and breathing in his scent, if not for Chris grabbing him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks and hissing, “He’s pregnant?”

Even if he wanted to keep Chris in the dark as admittedly petty revenge, Viktor couldn’t have stopped himself from blurting out, “Yes, and he moved in yesterday,” because he’d been dying to tell someone since Yuuri agreed to move in with him. “Not because he’s pregnant,” he adds quickly, not wanting Chris to jump to the wrong conclusion. “He used to live at that brownstone that’s getting demolished and he needed a place to stay and I offered.” He’d practically jumped at the opportunity; cleaning his apartment, buying out an entire aisle’s worth of blankets and pillows, and clearing out the spare room (even though he’s hoping it won’t be used) before Yuuri actually said yes. “We’re taking it slow.”

Chris snorts. “His baby bump says otherwise.”

“I’m courting him properly.” So the baby came a bit earlier than planned, it doesn’t mean that Viktor’s not planning on giving Yuuri everything so that he wants for nothing. Viktor’s in this for the long run. This is the endgame for him and he wants to do this right. “He wants us to get to know each other better before we move on to anything else.”

They’ve been meeting up almost every day since that fateful call. Going on lunch dates and dinner dates, walking Makka at the local park, and grading papers together at the library. And while it had been slow-going at first, they’ve started talking—about dogs (“I have a miniature poodle back home and he looks like a smaller version of Makkachin.”), their families (“Well, Mama was a prima ballerina and she met my Mamochka, who is a lawyer, when she got arrested for punching someone.”), their plans for the future (“You’re a year away from your doctorate, yes?”), even the studies they’re working on—and now Viktor knows more about Yuuri, and is impossibly even more gone for him.

“And does he know that you’re already looking at wedding rings and property listings?” Chris asks and Viktor splutters because how— “Georgi mentioned it and I thought it was weird at first, but it’s starting to make an awful lot of sense now.”

God, this is why Viktor can’t ask for Georgi’s opinion about anything.

“Look, you can judge me later but I have to go.” Chris will judge him for the rest of his life anyway, might as well make him wait. Shrugging out of Chris’ grip, Viktor straightens his jacket, eyeing the way Mila was now gesturing wildly, telling Yuuri about something or other. With trepidation. “Who knows what Mila’s telling him.”

“Probably that you’re mean and a total slave driver,” Chris answers without missing a beat. “So, the truth.”

Viktor doesn’t even dignify him with a response—he wouldn’t have to be mean if his students actually did the work assigned to them and it’s not like he’s having Mila do more than the other TAs—stepping into his office, and as soon as he does, Yuuri looks up and smiles. Like the sun rising from the horizon, warming Viktor from deep within. It’s all Viktor can do not to fall on his knees in worship as he stumbles to the couch, pulling Yuuri up and into his arms, heedless of the way Mila is gaping up at them.

Nothing else matters in this moment aside from Yuuri and making sure that they smell like each other; their scents intermingling into one heady perfume. It’s probably ten kinds of scandalous to be scenting each other so openly like this, but Viktor couldn’t care less. He drags his wrists over the glands on Yuuri’s neck, the swell of his belly, and leans in close so that Yuuri can do the same, until Viktor is scent-drunk and giddy with it. Until his mating gland is throbbing and itching for a bite. Until Yuuri is flushed and purring, face buried in the crook of Viktor’s neck.

“Class finished early and I thought I’d wait for you,” Yuuri murmurs once he manages to pull away, blinking up at him with hooded eyes and an easy smile that Viktor wants to taste. Find out if it’s as sweet as it looks.

“You should have called,” Viktor chastises even as he leans in close to bury his nose in Yuuri’s hair. It’s a long walk from Yuuri’s college to his, and although Yuuri has assured him repeatedly that he’s fine with walking, Viktor can’t help but worry and insists on driving Yuuri everywhere. “Were you waiting long?” He asks, gaze flitting quickly to Mila who’s still looking at them like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

Yuuri scrunches his nose up in response and Viktor helplessly presses a kiss to it, much to Yuuri’s delight. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“ _Yuuri_.”

“It’s fine!” Yuuri insists with a small laugh, before looking over his shoulder at Mila, who quickly stops her goldfish impression and plasters on a smile. “Mila kept me company,” he adds, and this time, it’s Viktor’s turn to stop narrowing his eyes at his TA and smile at Yuuri.

“Did she now?” He and Mila are definitely going to have a long talk later, but for now, Viktor presses a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead and says, “I’ll just get my things and then we can go.” At Yuuri’s nod, Viktor suddenly remembers that Chris, despite the fact that he’s stayed quiet thus far, is still out waiting in the hallway. “I know it’s very sudden but do you mind if a friend of mine joins us for dinner?”

“Not at all,” Yuuri answers after a short beat of silence, “I’ll wait for you outside.” He gives Mila a parting bow before making his way out of the office, slinging his bag over his shoulder and pointedly ignoring Viktor’s attempts to take it.

Running a hand through his hair, Viktor makes his way to his desk and starts to pack up, turning a blind eye to the incredulous look that Mila is giving him. He’s halfway through stuffing his laptop inside his bag when Mila goes to stand in front of his desk, still with that disbelieving look on her face.

“How the hell did you end up with him?” She asks, voice pitched low, and Viktor would be offended if he didn’t ask himself the same question every day. “He’s way too nice for you.”

Viktor sniffs. “I know, but one more word about this and I’ll have you rewrite your entire introduction,” he says, proving that yeah, Yuuri is too nice for him.

Mila, desensitized to his threats after nearly five years in the BS Physics program, only rolls her eyes and gives him a lofty salute.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

 

.

 

If there was one other thing aside from the nausea and vomiting that Yuuri could really do without regarding this whole pregnancy thing, it’s the constant need to go to the bathroom. At nearly five months, the tiny human being growing inside him has gotten big enough to start using his bladder as a cushion, and so Yuuri is constantly having to excuse himself to pee. It’s starting to get really annoying because he keeps getting the urge to pee at the most inopportune moments, like in the middle of proctoring an exam or during a consultation with Dr. Cialdini, or like right now, while he’s introducing Viktor to Minako.

Yuuri’s barely said _hello_ to Minako before he’s ducking inside her apartment and making a beeline for the bathroom.

He doesn’t think much of the fact that he’d left two alphas—one who thinks of him as her pup and another who’s courting him—until he emerges from the bathroom with a now empty bladder and comes back to see Viktor and Minako posturing.

At least that’s what he thinks they’re doing. Not that anything else can explain the pungent smell of two protective alphas fighting for dominance, thick and oppressing in the air. If it had been anyone else, Yuuri would have gotten out of there and made his escape. As it is, he only wrinkles his nose and suppresses the urge to sneeze, stalking to where Minako and Viktor are staring each other down by the foyer.

Yuuri knows, of course, that Minako is an alpha, has known it since he was a child and learned that she and Yuuko were exceptions rather than the rule when it came to their dynamic. It’s never really mattered except for the time when Minako would need to scent him to renew their pack bond, and he never thought that it would come up outside of that.

But he probably should have especially when he knows just how protective Minako can get.

Case in point.

“Minako-sensei,” he chastises with a frown, only to have Minako snort and raise an incredulous eyebrow at him as if to say _is that really the best you can do?_ Which, okay, yeah, it is, and Yuuri almost does a happy jig when Minako’s scent abates.

He thinks that he might have to do the same with Viktor, but as soon as Minako’s scent turns less cloying, Viktor’s follows suit, and Yuuri can’t help the pleased flush that rises to his cheeks at that, especially when he espies the contrition on Viktor’s face.

Of course, he should’ve known better than to think that that would be the end of whatever weird teritorial alpha thing they’re doing, because Minako is crossing her arms across her chest and making a point to look at Viktor from head to toe, expression clear that she finds him lacking.

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Minako begins, and Yuuri doesn’t miss the way Viktor straightens up, meeting Minako’s gaze head on. “By any chance, do you know an Ekaterina Mikhailovna?”

“Yes,” Viktor answers easily, and if he’s as confused as Yuuri is at the non-sequitur, he doesn’t show it. “Ekaterina Mikhailovna is my mother,” he adds, solving the mystery as to why the name sounds so familiar.

Letting out a low hum, Minako nods. “I thought so. You have her eyes,” she says, giving Viktor a considering look. “She was prima at the Bolshoi when I was at the Mariinsky,” Minako explains before finally turning her gaze back to Yuuri. “I suppose he’ll do.”  

“Minako-sensei!”

“You’ll have beautiful babies, at the very least,” Minako allows, and it’s as much of an approval as they’re going to get from her. “Are there any hereditary diseases in your family?”

“None that I can recall,” Viktor replies before Yuuri can start protesting again, and he settles for glaring at Minako, lips twisting into a pout. Yuuri had a feeling that she was going to be rather difficult and critical when he’d decided to finally introduce Viktor to her, but he didn’t think it was going to be this bad. “But I can submit to genetic testing.”

And the way that Viktor says it, like there’s absolutely nothing that he wouldn’t do should Yuuri require it of him, has Yuuri biting down on a purr as he takes Viktor’s hand in his and steps in close. If not for the fact that Minako is there and watching them both like a hawk, Yuuri would have leaned in and buried his face in Viktor’s neck. He settles instead for thumbing at the scent gland on Viktor’s wrist and murmuring, “We can do it together,” earning himself a bright smile and a burst of pheromones that makes Yuuri want to do away with all the traditional courting they’ve been doing and have Viktor claim him (and put another baby in him) right then and there.

Because Yuuri’s already pregnant with Viktor’s child and is a permanent fixture of Viktor’s bower. There’s no conceivable reason why they’re acting like they’re in a Regency novel and adhering to a bunch of outdated courtship rules, and it would be so, so easy to just lean in a little bit closer and draw Viktor in for a kiss—

As if reading his mind, Minako pointedly clears her throat, and if this had been any other time, Yuuri would startle and jump a few feet away from Viktor. Put some distance between them. But he’s had enough of their alpha posturing, and so he only tightens his grip on Viktor’s hand and raises his chin in challenge.

“Are you done exerting your dominance?” It isn’t something he thought he would ever ask Minako, and in such a petulant tone of voice too, but he’s pregnant and cranky and his ankles are hurting with all this standing around. “Can we go in now?”

Minako only looks amused, a hint of pride twinkling in her eyes, as she shakes her head and starts walking towards the kitchen; a wordless invitation in the tilt of her head. “I already told your parents that you have an important announcement so you can’t put this off anymore,” she warns, nodding at the laptop sitting innocently on the low table in the sitting room. From where he’s standing, Yuuri can see that it’s already set up. There’s no going back and he’s finally going to tell his parents and his sister—and their entire town—that he’s pregnant.

“I’m not going to put it off.”

“Please, we both know that if you had it your way, you’d come home to Hasetsu with a baby in tow and call it a day.”

Which, admittedly, had been the plan at first.

Yuuri didn’t really know where to start with explaining that he’s pregnant, so he’d avoided it, making sure to keep the camera focused on his face whenever he facetimed with them so that they won’t see his growing belly.

But then Viktor happened and they started talking about their families, and how excited Viktor was to introduce Yuuri and their baby to his mama and mamochka. And even though Yuuri knows for a fact that his family would be just as happy if he does turn up at Hasetsu with a baby (and hopefully, Viktor) in tow, they’d be much, much happier if he tells them now.

“Here’s a little tip,” Minako suddenly says, looking up from where she’s raiding the fridge, her gaze zeroing in on Viktor. “It’s his sister that you have to grovel to.” And with that delightful repartee, Minako saunters off to the balcony, a bottle of wine and a pack of spicy senbei in her hands, and an ominous reminder that she wants to speak with Viktor _alone_ after Yuuri makes his announcement to his parents.  

Once the balcony doors are shut, Yuuri turns to Viktor sheepishly. “Sorry about that.” He’d warned Viktor about Minako before they left home but it seems that Yuuri hadn’t warned him enough. “Minako-sensei is my godmother and she’s—”

“She cares about you.” Giving his hand a squeeze, Viktor shrugs, looking and sounding as if he would brave through Minako’s questions and criticisms a thousand more times for Yuuri, and Yuuri alone. “I can respect that,” he adds with a squeeze to Yuuri’s hand, before he asks, “Was she serious about your sister?”

Yuuri bites down on a grimace because Minako was more than serious.  

“Yes.”

 

.

 

 

> **Mari-nee**
> 
>  
> 
> are you mad?
> 
> Am I mad that you didn’t tell us immediately?  
>  A bit, yeah. But am I mad that you’re pregnant?
> 
> No. Not at all.
> 
> As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, Yuu-chan.
> 
> thank you, neechan
> 
> Mama’s already planning your wedding by the way
> 
>  
> 
> WHAT

 

.

 

To say that Viktor was excited would be a gross understatement.

He’s practically vibrating out of his skin, buzzing with way too much energy as he sits and waits in the waiting room of the local Omega Center’s clinic. Not even the hard, plastic chairs and the growing cramp in his left butt cheek can put a damper on his enthusiasm. Viktor’s pretty sure that nothing short of the apocalypse can rain on his parade, and probably not even then.

Not today of all days when he’ll finally be able to see his and Yuuri’s baby.

In a manner of speaking, that is.

Yuuri’s scheduled today for a doctor’s appointment and Viktor knows that they’ll be doing an ultrasound to check in on how the baby’s doing, as well as some other tests to keep track of Yuuri’s hormone levels. When Yuuri had brought it up during dinner a few nights ago, asking Viktor if he would want to come along, it would not be an exaggeration to say that it took everything in Viktor’s power not to burst into tears in the middle of a crowded restaurant, because he wants anything and everything when it comes to Yuuri and their child. Once he’d told Yuuri that he would be going, (“Of course, lapochka, I would be honored to go with you,”) he’d gone and cancelled the make-up class he’d planned for Saturday morning, sending a problem set for his students to accomplish instead.

Which is why Saturday morning finds Viktor at their university town’s Omega Center, trying and failing not to look too impatient as they wait for Yuuri’s turn.

Viktor’s just about to stand and make another circuit around the clinic—get rid of the jittery energy humming under his skin and possibly earn himself another amused look from the receptionist—when Yuuri’s hand finds his on the armrest. He doesn’t waste any time lacing their fingers together, the action almost instinctive, before leaning back and taking in the bemused look on Yuuri’s face.

“Are you alright?” The question is punctuated by a squeeze to his hand that Viktor eagerly returns as he huffs out a laugh that eases some of the tension building up inside him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Yuuri’s arched eyebrow pulls another laugh out of him. “Just a bit excited,” he assures Yuuri, even though the word barely scratches the surface of what he’s really feeling. Viktor’s a mess of excitement, anxiety, worry, and the increasingly overwhelming desire to pick Yuuri up and bring him back to his bower, make sure that he’s safe and warm and wanting for nothing, and _excited_ just doesn’t cut it.

But from the way Yuuri visibly scents the air, pupils blown wide, Viktor doesn’t really need to say anything because with how he’s practically bleeding out pheromones, Yuuri can smell whatever it is he’s feeling.

Humming, Yuuri settles in close, leaning against Viktor’s shoulder and looking up at him through his lashes. And if Viktor didn’t know any better, he’d think Yuuri was being coy, coquettish even, but Viktor does know better and chalks it off to the pregnancy hormones. Yuuri’s been clingy for the past few days thanks to them, something that has a small, often ignored part of Viktor, preening in delight. “Dr. Williams says that we’ll be able to see more details in today’s ultrasound,” Yuuri says once he’s practically plastered to Viktor’s side. “So we won’t just be looking at a blob this time around.”

“I would be just as excited to see a blob,” Viktor murmurs quietly, reaching down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Yuuri’s ear. “Because we made the blob together.”

It’s an admittedly stupid line. A very, very stupid line that Viktor wants to swallow back down. There’s a part of Viktor that’s trying to become one with the plastic chair in complete and utter shame because he can’t believe those words just left his mouth. He knows that there’s a better way to phrase it, but he’s never been particularly good with words, even more so when Yuuri’s around to distract him and get him tongue-tied. However, instead of the laughter he’s expecting, Yuuri suddenly rears up and _kisses him_.

A month into their courtship and two weeks into their new living arrangement, and they’ve finally, finally moved on to kissing. And so Viktor doesn’t waste any more time before returning Yuuri’s kiss, one hand coming up to gently tilt Yuuri’s head. It starts off chaste, the kind of kissing that fairy tales wax poetic about—soft and sweet, a whisper of a touch—but it’s not long before it turns into something filthy and obscene, the kind of kissing that’s definitely not appropriate for public consumption and would get them thrown out of the clinic, if the way someone, most probably the receptionist, is pointedly clearing their throat any indication.

It’s hard to pull away and harder still not to lean in again for another kiss, especially when Yuuri has a mouth made for kissing. But Viktor somehow manages, leaning back with a ragged breath and watching as Yuuri whips around to turn wide, apologetic eyes at the unimpressed receptionist.

“Dr. Williams will see you now.”

They make their way past the receptionist in abashed silence, trudging along like a pair of teenagers who just got caught necking. Which means that as much as Viktor wants to take Yuuri’s hand in his or put his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back, the embarrassed blush burning on Yuuri’s cheeks has him keeping his hands to himself. That is, until Yuuri reaches over to tangle their fingers together, and despite the fact that he’s just a few years shy of thirty, Viktor feels every bit like a schoolboy with a crush, his cheeks tingling with heat.

Now, let it be said that Viktor’s never been the kind of alpha to get territorial or possessive. He’s never found the need to posture or get into a dick-measuring contest with another alpha--his meeting with Madame Okukawa notwithstanding because that was a different kind of posturing altogether--but all he wants to do, when Yuuri pulls them into the office and they’re greeted by a tiny, red-headed alpha, is to drag Yuuri back out into the hallway.

“Hello Yuuri.” The red-headed alpha, Dr. Williams, stands and Viktor has to tamp down the urge to bare his teeth and growl. He settles for gritting his teeth, stepping close to Yuuri, and watching with narrowed eyes as Yuuri and Dr. Williams shake hands. “And--” She trails off, turning to him with a benign smile, expression carefully flat and non-threatening.

“Dr. Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri answers before Viktor can unclench his jaw. The way Yuuri says his name has him melting, but it’s nothing compared to when Yuuri adds, “My alpha,” while looking up at Viktor as if he’d hung the moon and every single star in the sky.

Except that that can’t be, because Viktor knows with a certainty he feels in his very bones—down to the subatomic particles that make up his entire being—that it’s _Yuuri_ who hung the moon and every single star in the sky.

“Just Viktor, please,” Viktor manages to say after a long beat of silence, feeling a bit faint as he takes Dr. Williams’ proffered hand and shakes it--his earlier qualms about the other alpha gone in the face of Yuuri’s claim.

“It’s nice to meet you, Viktor,” Dr. Williams returns before motioning towards the seats in front of her desk. “Huh, and I guess that solves the mystery of why you started showing early,” she starts and Viktor vaguely remembers wondering about it too since all the pregnancy books he’d been reading mentioned just how much a pregnant omega (or child-bearing beta) would show at certain time points, and Yuuri’s belly was definitely much higher and larger at just five months. He’d chalked it off to _him_ being a big baby—after a very cryptic phone call to his mothers where he had to listen to his Mama go on and on about his large head—and left it at that, which apparently, _is_ the explanation. “Big alpha, big baby.”

Dr. Williams says the words flippantly as she starts rifling through Yuuri’s lab and physical exam results and commenting on them, oblivious to the fact that Yuuri has erupted into a torrid blush after meeting Viktor’s eyes, which causes something of a chain reaction and has Viktor blushing too.

Because it’s clear that they’re both not thinking of _Viktor’s built_ when Dr. Williams says _big_ , and Viktor valiantly tries to listen and not think back on that fateful night five months ago. The last thing he wants is to chub up in the middle of a doctor’s visit especially when he’s been so good at reining himself in and keeping his boner to himself—a challenge in and of itself what with Yuuri looking like perfection itself and looking so at home in Viktor’s apartment.

“Now, I like to give the usual reminders before I do the ultrasound,” Dr. Williams is saying when Viktor tunes back in, already standing by the examination table and fiddling with the ultrasound machine. “Based from experience, no one wants to listen to me prattle on once they’ve seen the sonogram.”

Next to him, Yuuri shrugs out of his cardigan, and Viktor can only follow as he settles down on the table, holding out a hand that Viktor takes eagerly. They both nod along as Dr. Williams reminds Yuuri not to drink and smoke (“I know that you don’t but a little reminder won’t hurt.”), avoid caffeine as much as possible (“I know you’re on your way to a doctorate which means late nights, but I would really suggest against caffeine.”), and to eat healthy and exercise (“Your weight gain is coming in along nicely, which I’m guessing means that the vomiting has become much more manageable.”)

“Ah,” Dr. Williams suddenly starts, looking up from where she’s been preparing the ultrasound gel as if she’d just realized something important. “I always get asked this and yes, it’s okay to have sex during the pregnancy,” she continues, before adding, “As long as you’re both comfortable with it and nothing hurts.”

Viktor can almost hear the way his mind screeches to a stop, Yuuri’s too, if his gobsmacked expression is anything to go by.

Once again, Dr. Williams continues, oblivious to their plight, “And I think that’s it for me unless you have any more questions before we start?”

“No, we’re good,” Viktor rasps out, adjusting his hold on Yuuri’s hand so he can pull up Yuuri’s sweater to expose his belly, and carefully does not think about having sex with Yuuri while he’s pregnant even though it’s apparently sanctioned by their doctor.

They’ve yet to reach that stage in their courtship and Viktor is determined to go about this properly.

“Alright, then.” Dr. Williams picks up the transducer, pressing it to the glob of gel on Yuuri’s belly. They all watch in rapt attention as the screen flickers to life, showing an enclosed space that Viktor assumes--based on his extensive internet research—to be the uterus where oh, _oh_ , the faintest silhouette of a small, outstretched hand can be seen. Viktor’s heart stutters inside his chest at the sight, tears teasing at the corners of his eyes as another hand appears. “Huh.” Dr. Williams pauses, squinting up at the screen with a furrow on her brow that has Viktor’s blood pressure ratcheting up as she moves the transducer further along the swell of Yuuri’s baby bump. “That’s—”

Shifting on the bed, Yuuri’s grip on Viktor’s hand tightens as the silence stretches, before he finally asks, uncertainty lacing his tone, “Is everything okay?”

It’s a question that Viktor finds himself echoing over the rush of blood in his ears when Dr. Williams turns back to them with a brightness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Everything’s fine,” she blurts out, halting his panic in its tracks and replacing it with something else entirely when she continues, “In fact, I would say that everything is doubly fine.”

Viktor blinks.

Pauses.

Looks up at the screen that’s now showing two very distinct silhouettes—

“Congratulations, you’re having twins.”

—and promptly forgets how to breathe.

 

.

 

Viktor doesn’t remember the drive home.

Barely remembers the elevator ride to their floor.

Barely remembers anything else aside from the way his name sounds on Yuuri’s lips, the taste of Yuuri’s skin on his tongue, the sight of Yuuri laid out like a feast in their nest. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the entire thing a fever dream, but for once, he does know better, knows that the slick slide of skin against skin, along with Yuuri pulling him in for another drugging kiss is very much real.

Viktor’s fantasized about this an embarrassing number of times already—during the long and agonizing wait for Yuuri’s phone call and just about every single night since Yuuri moved in and settled permanently in Viktor’s bower, making a nest out of it—but his countless fantasies don’t compare. Truth be told, there’s no comparison to be had. Even his most obscene imaginings don’t hold a candle to the reality. Not when Yuuri is Eros made flesh and bone and blood, and Viktor is but a supplicant at his altar.

“Viktor, _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri chants, fingers grappling at his back to pull him even closer, leaving deep scratches in their wake—marking Viktor as his and only his. It’s such a stark contrast from the usual bashfulness that Yuuri shows that Viktor loses it a bit and the next thing he knows, he’s sucking a mark on the base of Yuuri’s neck and dragging a rough hand against Yuuri’s cocklet.

Whenever he thought about finally having Yuuri again, it was always gentle and loving, nothing like the drunken fumbling that had happened then, and definitely nothing like the frantic groping that’s happening now. Yuuri’s cocklet is slick and hard in his hand, and if Viktor isn’t chomping at the bit to sink his cock into Yuuri, he’d take his time, maybe even take Yuuri in his mouth and go to town like he had with Yuuri’s sweet cunt. As it is, Viktor can only manage a half-dozen rough jerks, but they’re more than enough to have Yuuri coming with a shout.

Clear slick hits his hand, and Viktor doesn’t even think, doesn’t even hesitate; just brings it to his mouth and licks. Savors the taste of Yuuri’s release on his tongue like a man starved while looking into Yuuri’s eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal. There’s a flash of _heat_ in Yuuri’s eyes that has Viktor growing harder, but before he can examine it any further, he’s on his back— _oh god, Yuuri’s strong, how did he miss that_ —and staring up at Yuuri—

—who doesn’t waste any more time, rising on his knees and reaching down to hold Viktor in place, while his other hand spreads the slick and heavy folds of his cunt. And then Yuuri’s sinking down on his cock with a punched-out, “yes, _yes, yes_ ,” damp eyelashes fluttering, and it’s all Viktor can do not to thrust up into him like an animal, because Yuuri is wet and tight and hot, a velvety furnace pulsating and squeezing around him like a dream.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuuri gasps when Viktor bottoms out, and from where they’re connected, Viktor can feel every shiver, every twitch, every breath that stutters out of Yuuri’s lips as he adjusts to Viktor’s girth.

“Are you okay?” Viktor manages to ask once he can form words, voice shaking as he waits for Yuuri to move. His already tenuous control is fraying with every second that passes, and the sight of Yuuri—stretched tight on his cock, nipples pink and plump as if they would start leaking milk soon, one hand cupping the swell of his growing belly—isn’t helping matters at all.

With a shaky nod, Yuuri shifts, rocking down and making Viktor’s hips jump, starting up an erratic rhythm that has him bouncing up and down on Viktor’s cock. “It’s just— _haaa_ —” Yuuri trails off, mouth slackening with a moan that goes straight to Viktor’s cock. “I forgot how big you are.”

The admission ignites a fire in the pit of Viktor’s belly, makes him dig his feet into the mattress and grab Yuuri by the hips as he _thrusts_ _up_ , has him whispering, filthy and obscene into the damp skin of Yuuri’s chest, “allow me to remind you, _detka_.”

 

.

 

 

> **Mama**
> 
> Will you two be having a traditional
> 
> Japanese wedding or an Orthodox one?
> 
> Because your Mamochka and I are  
>  planning on going to the jeweller this  
>  weekend to look at crowns.
> 
> We’re still courting, Mama!
> 
> Of course, you’re right.
> 
> You ought to have both.

 

.

 

Days pass and Viktor and Yuuri don’t really settle into equilibrium so much as grow into each other.

It’s been a little over two months, and Viktor will be the first to admit that he’d been worried when they started living together. He was ecstatic, of course, when Yuuri accepted his offer; to have Yuuri in his space, in his bower, feels like a dream come true. But despite what Chris, Georgi, or his students may say to the contrary, Viktor has enough self-awareness to know that he can be overbearing at times.

Or as one ex would say, “ _oh, look at me, I’m Viktor Nikiforov and I think the whole world revolves around my enormous head!_ ”

Viktor knows that he’s something of an acquired taste, to put it mildly. He has bad habits and weird hobbies just like any other person. And even though he and Yuuri have been practically attached by the hip ever since they’d reconnected, going on dates and spending countless hours at the library poring over papers and exams, living together is a completely different matter altogether.

They’ll be living in one space, and sure, his apartment is pretty spacious, but they’ll be sharing the same space for an indeterminable amount of time.  

There’ll be no hiding the fact that he likes to sleep in the nude. Or that he puts an absurd amount of jam in his tea. Or that he sings (terribly and loudly) in the shower. Or that he has a twelve-step skincare routine that would put any beauty vlogger to shame. Or that Viktor is a perfectionist to a fault.

And Viktor is afraid.

What if Yuuri doesn’t like his apartment? What if Yuuri decides that he can’t live with Viktor’s quirks and habits and hobbies? What if--what if Viktor messes up and drives Yuuri away?

Except he doesn’t.

(Or at the very least, he hasn’t, yet.)

Yuuri comes into his life, carves out a place for himself, and settles in as if he’s always been there--as if he’s always belonged.

Not to say that it’s all smooth sailing, because Yuuri, like Viktor, has his own quirks, habits, and hobbies, some of them seemingly antithetical to Viktor’s own.

Yuuri firmly does not believe in mornings, while Viktor rises with the sun. Yuuri takes his tea with just a hint of sugar, while Viktor takes his with an admittedly ridiculous amount of jam. Yuuri, according to his friends, mainlines sugary iced coffees, while Viktor prefers his coffee to be as dark as his soul.

But they make it work.

Slowly but surely.

With every casual touch and easygoing smile, they move closer together—two satellites falling into each other’s orbits. They learn and they grow; they compromise and come into agreements, working hard to stay in each other’s lives with every passing day.

And sure, it’s far from easy and far from perfect, not to mention that they’ve had a most unconventional start to their relationship, _but_ , Viktor thinks, as he watches Yuuri stir from his slumber, nose scrunching up in that cute little way that makes Viktor want to kiss him each and every time, _they’re both coming together quite nicely._

“Good morning, my sleeping beauty.”

 

.

 

 

> **Mari-nee**
> 
>  
> 
> I think your in-laws are here  
>  [image: a wide shot showing the Katsuki family’s private sitting area—Hiroko Katsuki is engaged in what seems to be a lively conversation with two other women, later identified to be Ekaterina and Viktoria Nikiforova. There’s a smattering of magazines on the kotatsu, where the three of them are holding court, as well as plates of snacks and drinks.] 
> 
> Vicchan approves  
>  [image: Vicchan sleeping peacefully in Viktoria Nikiforova’s lap.]
> 
> WHY ARENT YOU STOPPING THEM
> 
> What, and miss out on all the fun?
> 
> The whole town got involved too, so  
>  I’m pretty sure that you’re gonna have  
>  a festival thrown in your honor
> 
> NEECHAN PLS ILL GE6T YOUV IP  
>  TICKETS TO THAT CONCERT

 

.

 

 

> **Mamochka**
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think of blue and purple  
>  as a color scheme? With silver and gold  
>  as accents?
> 
> [image: a sheaf of cardstock in blue and purple, interspersed with cream envelopes.]
> 
> Mamochka, please tell me that’s  
>  not the invitation.
> 
> Well, of course not.
> 
> It’s just a mock-up, dear.

 

.

 

The College of Engineering’s parking lot is steadily turning into something of a familiar sight.

It’s becoming as familiar as the College of Science’s own, and Viktor absently wonders about the ease with which he navigates the area and finds an empty spot near the entrance. Before Yuuri and before Viktor’s compulsive need to drive him anywhere and everywhere—even down to the corner store that’s literally a block away—Viktor’s never really bothered to explore the campus despite teaching there for the past five years. His daily route used to only involve his apartment building, the gym, the main library, and the College of Engineering, and he’s gotten lost way too many times to count whenever he had to meet up with Chris and Georgi for drinks.

So the fact that Viktor can now confidently make his way around the campus _and_ the nearby town without having to resort to Google maps or asking Chris or Georgi to come find him, is a miracle in and of itself. It’s yet another thing that Viktor has to thank Yuuri for.

“Are you sure you want to attend this class?” Viktor asks for what feels like the umpteenth time as they make their way to the lobby, deftly dodging Yuuri’s attempts at taking his bag back. He knows that he’s being annoying, but Yuuri’s two weeks into the third trimester and should have already started his paternity leave _yesterday_. Yuuri shouldn’t be out here where it isn’t safe. But short of bundling Yuuri up and carting him back to his bower, which yeah, _no_ , Viktor’s not a barbarian, there’s really not much else he can do. “I’m sure we can ask—”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri says, cutting him off for what feels like the umpteenth time too, the fond smile on his face never once disappearing. “This is the last time I’m teaching before Dr. Cialdini and Dr. Baranovskaya finally run me out of the department for my paternity leave.”

And thank god for that, because if not for his thesis advisers telling him to take a leave already, Viktor has a feeling that Yuuri would still be going to class.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Viktor passes Yuuri’s bag to a waiting Kenjirou Minami, who quickly absconds with it to the classroom, and earns himself an exasperated huff from Yuuri. “Call me if you want to go home,” he says, running a protective hand over Yuuri’s belly. “I’ll be here to take you back immediately.” If Viktor hadn’t scheduled an exam today, then he would have just stayed with Yuuri, but he had, and today’s short exam makes up a decent chunk of his students’ grades, and frankly, he doesn’t quite trust them not to do anything funny without him there.

“Vitya,” Yuuri says, nosing up along his jaw, and it’s such a dirty, dirty trick and Yuuri has to know by now how weak Viktor is for that move. Which okay, to be fair, he’s weak for everything that Yuuri does, but there’s just something about hearing Yuuri use his diminutive while scenting him that turns Viktor’s knees to jelly each and every time. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll be back by noon and we can have lunch together.”

With a shake of his head, Yuuri says, “Okay. I’ll see you later,” punctuated with a soft kiss. Any other time, Viktor would have deepened the kiss, but for some reason, it feels like they’re standing on the edge of a precipice—a precipice that Yuuri sends them hurtling over with an offhand, “Love you,” as he walks away.

As if he hadn’t just blown Viktor’s mind.

As if he hadn’t just walked off with Viktor’s heart in his pocket.

As if he hadn’t just reduced Viktor into a blubbering mess, frying nearly all of his brain cells, and causing him to make the drive to the College of Engineering in a complete daze.

Viktor’s not even sure how he ends up in his class in one piece, but he does, and when his brain goes back online, he finds everyone in his _Advanced Theoretical Physics_ class looking at him with curious eyes, waiting for further instructions for the exam.

 _Right_.

He has to pretend that he’s a functional member of society and not a lovesick fool.

Viktor can do that.

“Okay, you know the drill—write the complete solution or no points and any and all forms of cheating is an automatic zero. You have one hour.” He’s met with loud groans and complaints, and if he’d had more than two brain cells left to rub together, Viktor would have slashed that time in half—give his students something to really complain about—but as it is, he’s in a very, very good mood, so he reaches for his marker and starts writing on the board.

As soon as he writes the word _BONUS_ , the study hall falls silent, and he turns back to his class with a smile.

“However,” he begins, sitting down and making a show of setting the timer on his phone. “I’m giving everyone two bonus points if you provide me with two baby names at the back of your answer sheet. If I happen to like the names, I’ll give you an additional two points.”

 

.

 

 

> **< 3 Yuuri <3**
> 
>  
> 
> i meant it
> 
> You are so dangerous to my heart,  
>  Yuuri Katsuki.
> 
> I’m in the middle of giving an exam  
>  and now my students are watching  
>  me have an emotional breakdown.
> 
> I love you too.
> 
> i know

 

.

.

.

 

Okay, so the thing is, you don’t come out of Dr. Nikiforov’s classes without seeing or learning some pretty weird stuff.

Be it actual physics (“Now, whatever you hear and see in this room stays in this room, or else I will personally gut you with a spork. Saying that, I’d like to share that my colleagues from CERN and I have isolated the fifth particle.”) or the latest gossip (“Okay, so I’m pretty sure I have very solid evidence regarding Dr. Cialdini’s involvement in the mafia.”)—because Dr. Giacometti from Social Sciences and Dr. Popovich from Literature like dropping by and regaling Dr. Nikiforov with the good stuff—they know things. Especially the poor idiots who took Theoretical Physics as a major and have been stuck with Dr. Nikiforov for four, terrible, long years.

Suffice to say, there’s really nothing that can surprise Dr. Nikiforov’s students, particularly the seniors, at this point in time.

At least, until Dr. Nikiforov strides in with a baby strapped to his chest and another on his back, during the first day of class for the second semester.

Only Mila Babicheva—Dr. Nikiforov’s TA a.k.a senior slave—looks unfazed, even giving a little wave to the dark-haired baby on Dr. Nikiforov’s front, who gives her a gummy smile in return.

“Mila, when Dr. Nikiforov had us give him baby names last semester—”

It had been a weird bonus question, but they all figured that Dr. Nikiforov was just going to adopt another dog, which is why a majority of them wrote down possible dog names, not baby names.

“They were for his kids, yeah,” Mila replies in the tone of someone who knows the secrets to the universe.

“What kind of monster allowed Dr. Nikiforov to procreate?” Because sure, Dr. Nikiforov has won their university’s hottest professor award for five years running, but he’s also a complete asshole and not even his pretty face can change that.

Mila just shrugs, letting out a small hum as they all watch Dr. Nikiforov set up two baby seats on his desk, babbling all the while in what seems to be a mixture of Russian and Japanese. “I’d say the same, but I’ve met Yuuri and I’m pretty sure he’s an actual angel.”

“Yuuri? Please, please don’t tell me you mean Yuuri Katsuki from engineering, because I will cry, Mila. I will cry rivers of blood.”

“Pretty sure it’s Katsuki-Nikiforov now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody asked, but otabek is 'junior slave' bc i always like to torture him in my fics hhhhhh
> 
> did yuuri just han solo, viktor? yes. yes he did
> 
> pls comment to water my crops so i can write more about viktor getting his ten babies this 2019 
> 
> #GiveViktorHisTenBabies2k19


End file.
